


My Brother

by Dewdropzz



Series: In Honour of a Good Man [6]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:52:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewdropzz/pseuds/Dewdropzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When I let go of his hands in the doorway of the little house we had lived in our entire lives as a family, and stood perfectly still as I watched him be driven away in the Laytons' car, I remember thinking that would be the last time I would ever see him... It is unfortunate that by the time we would meet up again over thirty years later, fate had taken us in different directions, and shaped us into the men we had become.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother

I must say, when I was younger, I wouldn't have thought I would live to be eighty-five years old. No, I never really thought about it, but when I was living for revenge since the time I was old enough to comprehend what revenge was, I didn't expect I had the highest quality of life to look forward to, nor that I would want to live that long.

And then there was my brother. He was so young when he was adopted, he didn't remember anything about what we had been through. He didn't remember our parents being taken by the Targent Agency, and so he had no reason to resent that foul organization. He didn't remember being anyone but Hershel Layton, and so he was free to live a normal life. He grew up and went to school. He had many friends, and parents who loved him. He began his career as an archaeology professor at Gressenheller University; he fell in love and would have been married, if fate hadn't wrestled it from him. His life was complete and full, and he had so much to live for.

I cannot say I often wonder, as things are the way they are... They were the way they were, and perhaps the way they were meant to be. But it would be a lie to say the thought has never crossed my mind of how things would have been different had we been adopted together.

I was adopted shortly after my brother was. The couple had one older daughter who was away at university when I went to live with them. The family was very gracious to me — They treated me like a son, which was more than I deserved, as I was not mentally capable of acknowledging them as my parents, for I knew who my real parents were. For seven years I called Leon and Rachel Bronev "father" and "mother". I couldn't bring myself to forget my real family, and my childhood in the small yellow house we lived in in the English countryside, simply because they changed my name and said I was their son now. My name was the solitary connection to my family I was able to let go of, knowing I had willingly given it to my brother in order to ensure he found a home. Theodore, as I would continue to think of him as regardless until we would meet again many years later when we were both well into our thirties, was only three years old when our parents were abducted. He was practically a baby on mama's knee, and when we found ourselves alone without a mama or a daddy, it soon became dolefully evident to me that the mere love of a seven-year-old brother would not suffice for him. As hard as I tried to keep my brother with me, I always knew that one day it would all come to an end... When the Laytons came along and heard we were both up for adoption, they said they wanted the little boy named Hershel, because they heard say he was extraordinarily clever — A gifted child. If they took me, I feared to think what would happen to my brother. He would end up in an orphanage, if not alone and starving to death. As intelligent as I was for a seven-year-old boy, I had no plan that would allow us to stay together. All I could come up with was to pretend my brother's name was Hershel so that he could be adopted instead of me. When I let go of his hands in the doorway of the little house we had lived in our entire lives as a family, and stood perfectly still as I watched him be driven away in the Laytons' car, I remember thinking that would be the last time I would ever see him... It is unfortunate that by the time we would meet up again over thirty years later, fate had taken us in different directions, and shaped us into the men we had become.

When I look back now, it's no wonder things turned out the way they did for me. When my brother was with me, I focused all of my attention on caring for him. On the night that he was adopted, I remember feeling as though I had lost all purpose in life: a feeling of utter, crushing loneliness, as if I was the only one left in the world as I knew it. In a way, I was the only one left. I cried all night that first night alone in the house, and by the morning I'd realized I did still have something to live for: I needed to get revenge on the ones who had stolen everything from me. First Targent for taking my parents and tearing our family apart; then the Azran civilization for being the root of all Targent's evil. I knew that both would require me to become prominent in the field of archaeology. From that day forward I threw myself into its study, making use of my father's books that had been left behind in his office. On my quest for revenge, I unintentionally became an archaeological prodigy by the time high school was upon me. To take down Targent, however, archaeology was only the beginning, the framework, the preliminary of the training I would have to subject myself to. I went to university for sciences, and developed a knack for inventing and building machines. I studied the art of hand-to-hand combat, and trained myself until I was confident that I could come out victorious in any skirmish. I worked my body and mind until I had reached the peak of humans' physical, and mental abilities... perhaps to the point of exhaustion. To overcome Targent was to sacrifice everything. There was a time in my life when I barely felt human at all, but like a machine built for war, whose only purpose was to destroy...

She was the only one who could make my feelings of emptiness disappear. She was the goodness that was granted to me, my ray of hope for a life of happiness after a lifetime of bitterness. And though after all these years I still can hardly bare to say her name, Louisa was a saviour to me. If only for a short time, she allowed me to live for a purpose other than revenge... Shortly after we were married, we were blessed with the most beautiful baby girl. Our Joy was brought into the world on a sunny day in April, and for nine years we were able to live together as a normal family, with normal lives, and hopes and dreams for the future. Until a sunny morning in late march, on a day much like the day Joy was born.

My fame as an archaeologist had spread throughout Great Britain, and the world. As far as the magazines were concerned, I was the prime authority on the excavation of ancient ruins. I was careless in allowing myself to become so famous... Targent had eyes hidden in the shadows of every corner of the earth. They had arcane ways of knowing about every relic and archaeological discovery in the world, including my own. Naturally when they learned of my accomplishments, they tried to utilize my skills. When they requested I work for them, I turned them down without question. And they promised they would make me pay for my mistake. From my experience with Targent, I had no doubt they would come for me. Although they were blissfully unaware of who I was, and hadn't an inkling of an idea what my true intentions were, I fully expected to be held at gunpoint and forced into submission as my father had been, or perhaps they were past forced conscription and would simply try to murder me on the spot. But I laughed that they thought they could do that to me, just like every other poor soul who ever fell pray to them. I spit in their faces and laughed them to scorn, and I looked forward to the day they came for me, under the horrible misapprehension that they could not defeat me. I was such a fool... I was such a fool. When I came home that morning to our house in the English countryside, the second one I would live in with a family, I went immediately to Louisa and I's bedroom... Joy liked to sleep with Louisa whenever I was away, and I knew I would find them both there and I wanted to surprise them... I found them just as I thought I would, but they never awoke to greet me. Their precious faces were both soaked in blood. They had both been shot.

I laid between them all that day. There was nothing else I could do. The police, Scotland Yard; they were powerless against the Targent Agency. Targent was, after all, a government organization — The authorities had no choice but to turn a blind eye. It didn't matter, anyway. No amount of jail time, nor even capital punishment, would bring my family back. But Targent needed to be punished, and the only one who was capable of such a feat, was me. All I wanted was revenge. It had been what I'd wanted all my life, now it was all I had left. It was the reason I got up in the morning; the reason why I didn't pull the trigger and allow myself to die with my wife and child and believe me, it was the only reason. I wanted to kill Targent first. I wanted to take my sword and slash their leader into pieces: one for each piece of my soul they had stolen, which could never be replenished. And then, I learned that their leader had once been an earnest archaeologist who lived a happy life with his wife and his two young sons, until he, like so many others, had been abducted for the knowledge he possessed. Targent's leader was my father, Leon Bronev.

When I learned this, I sobbed the same way my brother and I did on the day our parents were taken, and I realized I was a broken man now. There was nothing left of me except for an empty shell barely alive, barely breathing. My eyes were dimmed. I saw nothing. I felt nothing. There was nothing left. I could not go on any further and have revenge as the person I was, and so someone else would have to do it in my place. Targent already knew who I was. They had done all they could do to punish me; if they caught me interfering with their plans, they would surely kill me, and all I had worked for would be for nothing. I had no other choice but to continue my work in disguise. Donning a costume inspired by the games of dress-up I used to play with my daughter, and using the money I had earned from all my archaeological finds, I became Jean Descole, an artistic and eccentric scientist hellbent on achieving his Herculean goals.

Again, I sometimes try to imagine how things would have been different if I had been adopted with my brother. If only the two of us could have stayed together, perhaps I would not have grown up the way I did... Perhaps my life wouldn't have turned in the direction it took. Of course, I cannot pretend my brother led a normal, pain-free life either. Hershel Layton has certainly had his share of hardship and tears, same as I have. Whether or not the memory remained fresh in his mind, it should not be forgotten that he too was brutally wrenched from the arms of his parents at a young age. He too lost the love of his life to a cruel twist of fate. He has experienced many a tragedy, some as a comforter, some as a victim. How did I know all this about my brother when indeed we spent most of our lives apart? It sounds more than a little strange, I know, but I watched Hershel Layton for many years. Though I did not physically see him in person for the first thirty, I did what I could to learn about him; where he had been, what he'd been doing, and who he'd been with. If Targent could do it with a thousand archaeologists, surely I could manage with one person. I am completely aware of how insane it all sounds. Perhaps it was my way of keeping him close — Or who's to say I wasn't completely insane? I suppose I was weak, and unable to let go. I wanted to make sure he was living the life I gave up my name to permit him to live. I could not simply reintroduce myself into his life. He wholeheartedly believed he was a Layton by blood; if I were to tell him otherwise it would shatter everything he knew. More urgently, if I were to allow him back into my life, he would surely become an open target for Targent, even more so than he already was. Still I always hoped that someday we would be able to meet... I only hoped our first reunion would have been under happier circumstances than they were.

And so it was that by the time we were reunited in the foggy town of Misthallery, Hershel Layton was a revered archaeology professor at Gressenheller University, and I... I was a masked madman, and was earning a reputation as so. I did not care what it took to take down Targent. They had hurt me. They had stolen everything from me. I was now willing to hurt anyone who got in my way of bringing them down. I manipulated people, innocent and otherwise, to achieve my own ends. In order to defeat Targent, I needed to get to each of the Azran's three legacies before they did. The Garden of Healing in Misthallery, the City of Ambrosia, and the Infinite Chamber of Akbadain were all on my list to conquer, no matter what it took to do so. I built a machine that would allow me to single-handedly excavate an underground paradise, and a musical instrument that could copy the memories of a dead person into a living one. I told countless lies, and created dozens of large scale illusions and deceptions. I am certain that I did mental harm to many, and possibly bodily harm to some. But I never killed a human being. I would not, I could not kill another man or woman who did not work for the Targent Agency, no matter how much I threatened to in order to strike fear into the people I stepped on. Fear was an essential component of control, and control was absolutely necessary to ensure my plans ran smoothly. But I would not kill another person, as that would lower me to the same level as the people I hated. And no matter what manner of villainy I had resorted to by that time, I was still a human being, somewhere in the emptiness of what I had become.

It was destiny that I would never achieve my revenge the way I had planned however, as without even trying, Hershel Layton was always one step ahead of me. It could not have been a coincidence that he was somehow connected to every legacy I strove to unearth! It could not have been an accidental happening, a fluke, that he somehow got involved in everything I tried to do, outwitted me and thwarted me in all my endeavors no matter how hard I tried to deter him! I never meant to become the arch nemesis of Hershel Layton and he never meant to become mine! It was fate that brought my brother and I together, and I have never doubted that for the briefest instance in my life! I could not go on pretending it was not the truth, and I could not solve the mystery of the Azran legacy without him. I knew the time had come at last for me to call upon Professor Layton for assistance. There was no feasible way I could have done it as Jean Descole, for he would never have helped me after the damage and suffering I'd caused. So for the four and a half months that I traveled with him, I resumed the guise of my old person; the one I thought had been wiped from existence years ago after the untimely deaths of my wife and child.

To be myself again after three long years, and to remain myself for more than four months without ever having to hide behind a mask, disguising who I was; the way I walked or the way I talked. To behave in a way that was natural to me. To be a kind intellectual, able to help others because I wanted to, and not because it would yield some profit to me. During those four and a half months it was proven time and again that Hershel Layton and I were practically one in the same. The similarities were remarkable; never had I met a man so much after my own heart than this puzzle-solving archaeology protege. I admit he was just as brilliant as I was, perhaps more so. If one of us was stumped and didn't know how to proceed, the other would almost always have the answer. The two of us combined our talents to unravel the mystery of the Azran legacy. Together, it seemed we were an invincible team, and his two young assistants I believe I became as fond of as he was during that short time... At the end of our adventure, I was glad to have brought my brother with me. Whether or not he knew who I was, or who I truly was for the most part of our journey, it did mean the world to me to have him by my side as I completed my life's mission. After all, Targent's crimes were as much against him as they were me, although he would not realize it until that final day...

I nearly died in the Azran Sanctuary. It was rather fortunate the way it happened, for if it had not happened I surely would never have been able to redeem myself in the eyes of my brother and his companions. I needed to tell them that I was Descole — I had no other choice, as I could not face Targent as myself. I knew I could not expect them to forgive me. I could not even hope for forgiveness, for there was no hope left within me. When Luke got in the way of a laser beam trap, it was merely a reflex that I jumped in front of him. For once I did not stop to weigh out my options before acting. The boy would have been killed if I didn't do something; it was as simple as that. I was not trying to be a superhero, or even atone for my mistakes, for my mistakes could not be atoned for. The only thought that crossed my mind as I suddenly found myself lying on the ground, burnt and critically wounded from the laser, was that I needed to tell Hershel Layton I was his brother.

How I survived my near-death experience, to this day I do not know. I never had that zeal for life my brother had. All I can assume is that during what should have been my final moments, something, or somebody willed me to live. I almost remember that wondrous Azran girl talking to me in a dream, telling me I mustn't give up. She told me that hope was more than the foolish illusion I had written it off to be, and that the hopes and dreams of the family I lost still lived on in my heart. And that, I can only speculate, is the reason why I have lived to be eighty-five years old. From that day on I tried to view the world only through their eyes. It was the start of a new reality for me —A new horizon, and a future I could finally look forward to. My wife and daughter, my mother, and my brother; all of them I would keep as reminders of the brief, beautiful moments of my past, and also as role models for the present and the future that awaited me.

I did not keep in touch with Hershel Layton after the Azran legacy was laid to rest — I did not even try. It was destiny that two brothers separated at a young age should meet again, but perhaps it was also destiny that we were separated in the first place. Our lives set forth down different paths from the beginning, never meant to be intertwined. Just knowing he was out there somewhere in the world, and aware that he had a brother, was comfort enough to me. I would see Hershel Layton sporadically throughout the years — Apparently the earth was not big enough to keep us from bumping into one another — and I enjoyed every one of those encounters, short and sweet as they were. Our meetings were few and far between; often going five or eight years without seeing each other. Naturally every time we would meet, one or both of us would look a little different, a little older than before. And now I fear that I will not be seeing Professor Layton again. For I still live in London, and I have heard the rumours that he has been bedridden for some time. And it does not appear that he will be getting up.

I would never have thought that I would live a longer life than my brother. It always seemed he was the more fortunate of the two of us; whether he simply had the better attitude is a matter of the onlooker's opinion. In any case, the day that Hershel Layton dies will be a day, once again, of despair for me. He gave me something to hold onto for all those years, when otherwise, I would have been alone. And if we ever meet again, it will be thanks, in part, to him. If we do meet again, we will finally belong together. We can at long last be the brothers we were meant to be, and not even fate can tear us apart.


End file.
